


Playing It Safe

by LeoTheAvengingLioness333



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff, I Ship It, I ship it so hard, Post Season 1, and i just cant with these two, and my brain isn't working, but its late, just a little oneshot, kinda angsty, not sure how i feel about the title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 08:50:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3762094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeoTheAvengingLioness333/pseuds/LeoTheAvengingLioness333
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He said thank you every time she patched him up, so by now she had to know how grateful he was. But he didn’t just say it to show her gratitude, he said it because that’s all he could say. That’s all he would allow himself to say. "</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing It Safe

**Author's Note:**

> Basically just a Matt/Claire one-shot, set after the end of S1. Like, this show, oh boy. So good. Everything about it. And these two stole my heart the second she found him in that dumpster. And Claire seriously needed to be in more episodes. We didn't get nearly enough of her.
> 
> I'll probably write more for these two at some point, but for now this is it. Last two weeks of the semester, so not a whole lot of time to write even if I want to, sadly. Anyway!
> 
> Enjoy!

            It had been nearly 6 weeks since Matt had last seen Claire. Almost that long since he’d donned his new vigilante—or superhero—name. The criminals he’d been dealing with during that time had been fairly easy to dispatch as many of them were wary or outright feared the Daredevil that took down Wilson Fisk. Still, the bad people that roamed the streets of Hell’s Kitchen weren’t to be deterred for long and in the past week or so, crime had been steadily rising again. And even his new protective gear wasn’t always effective against the determination and cruelty of criminals who got some sick, twisted kick at the opportunity to take a swing at the devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

            That night was one such case.

            He’d gone after a particularly large, brutish guy who’d been terrorizing a couple that had been cutting through a back alley. Now while that may not have been the best decision, Matt wasn’t just going to let them get hurt for making a less than stellar decision. So he went after the brute. And though the guy had a punch like a freight train and was a lot quicker than he looked, Matt had him handled. The couple even got away. And then things went south when three other guys showed up, two of them pulling out knives.

            He’d gotten the upper hand. Eventually. And then the cops had showed up to take care of the rest, the sirens still echoing especially loud in his ears as he stumbled his way to Claire’s apartment, bruised and bloodied. Not bothering to go around to the front door, he clambered his way, not so gracefully, down the fire escape, collapsing outside the window. He sat there for a moment, breathing hard, clutching his side where his deepest knife wound was. He almost laughed because Claire was going to be so fucking _pissed_ when she found out that he’d managed to get sliced at just the right angle where there was a chink in his armor.

            He pulled back his mask, the cool night air soothing against his heated skin. He blinked his eyes against the fire that forever clouded his vision. He was concentrating just enough to be able to hear Claire’s heartbeat inside her apartment. It was steady, calm. She was relaxed, explained by the sound of her television in the background. Part of him hated to ruin her night in. But the wound in his side—among his other various ones—were still weeping blood, and the pain was becoming more noticeable by the second. Sucking in a deep breath, feeling it rattle in and out of his lungs, he rapped his knuckles against the pane of her window.

            He could hear Claire’s heart jump, then settle back into a steady, albeit somewhat quicker pace. He heard her shut off the TV, letting the remote clatter back against her coffee table. A few seconds of just her footsteps and then she was at the window, pulling back the blinds. He couldn’t see her face but knew she was surprised when he heard her breath hitch just the slightest. Then the window opened and the warm air from her apartment mixed with the cool night air, rushing over his body.

            “Matt?” she said, and the air moved as she reached out a hand towards him, and there was the slightest brush of her fingers against the sleeve of his outfit, making his own heart spike.

            “Hi,” he greeted breathlessly. “Been a while since I was bleeding out in front of your door. Or rather, window. Figured I should keep you on your toes.”

            She scoffed, but he could hear the smile in it. “How considerate of you, making sure I don’t slack off in nursing your dumb ass back to health.”

            He chuckled, wincing as his side flared up with pain. “So you, uh, gonna let me in?”

            “I don’t know,” she replied. “Maybe I should let you bleed a little more. It’s been six weeks, Matt. I mean, not even a phone call to let me know that things are going ok? That you’re not lying in another dumpster somewhere?”

            Matt bowed his head a little, away from her gaze, which he could feel burning on his face. “I’m sorry, Claire.”

            “As well as you should be,” she muttered, and she didn’t sound angry. “Come on, let’s get you patched up.”

            She leaned out towards him, and he shifted so she could more easily wrap an arm around him and help him into her apartment. Claire helped sit him down in one of the chairs at her table before shutting the window and then going to grab her medical supplies.

            Sitting down in a safe place was comforting, but the fact that it was Claire’s place was even more so. Matt immediately felt calmer, his heartrate evening out, his muscles relaxing. When she came back on the room, her presence did the final trick. He loved the subtle fruity smell of her shampoo, but the even more pleasant scent of her skin underneath was even better. It smelled _soft._ That was the only way he could describe it. Like flowers—lilac, he was pretty sure—with hints of vanilla, and overall something that worked to soothe him down to his very core.

As she started to work on him, they fell into their familiar routine. She helped peel off the top half of his armor, careful around the wound in his side. She applied stitches and bandages where needed, he listened when she instructed him to do something, and he gradually became less bloody and the injuries he actually had more visible.

“So,” she started, a wry tone to her voice as she finished stitching up the gash on his side. “ _Daredevil_ , huh?”

He laughed. “Yeah, wasn’t my idea.”

“It fits, though,” she mused.

“It’s starting to grow on me,” he agreed with a smile.

“And I see you finally listened to my advice about getting some armor,” Claire pointed out. “Aside from the laceration in your side, it’s mostly bruises.”

“That’s partly why I haven’t been to see you,” he admitted softly, her mood automatically reflecting his tone. “Haven’t needed to be patched up.”

Claire was quiet for a moment. “Guess that’s the only downside to it then, huh?” she teased quietly.

He gave her half a smile. “Guess so.”

A tense silence hung in the air for what felt like a very long time, and Matt was nearly holding his breath waiting for her to say something. Instead, she just rummaged around in her supplies, pulling out a bandage and taping it over his side.

“There,” she announced, voice clipped. “All done. I should go wash up—”

She started to pull away but he touched her wrist gently and she froze. He heard her heartbeat pick up again and he knew he should let go, but this was the first time in six weeks that he’d seen her and for a minute he just wanted to be selfish. He knew the boundaries she’d laid down, and he completely understood and respected them. Hell, he agreed with her. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt sometimes. She grounded him and there was a part of him that felt like he was losing that.

He slowly let his fingers fall away from her wrist. “I just wanted to say that I—just…thank you, Claire.”

He heard her exhale softly, a little brokenly.

He said thank you every time she patched him up, so by now she had to know how grateful he was. But he didn’t just say it to show her gratitude, he said it because that’s all he _could_ say. That’s all he would allow himself to say. _Thank you_ was safe. It didn’t cross any of those boundaries they’d laid down. Even adding her name to the end of the sentence was risky because he absolutely loved the way the syllable rolled off his tongue. He loved the little hiccup in her heartbeat every time he said her name even more.

It felt like a millions years before either one of them moved, but then Claire was stepping back towards him. Her fingers found his and she squeezed lightly. Then she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his cheek, dangerously close to his mouth. She lingered there for a moment, her breath warm against his skin. Matt just squeezed her hand a little tighter in his own. Anything more than that and he knew it would all be over.

            “Claire,” he breathed, his voice barely audible.

            She touched her forehead to his temple, lifting her other hand up and cradling the other side of his head. He leaned into her touch, swallowing past the thickness in his throat.

            “I’m going to go wash up,” she told him softly. “You can stay here tonight, if you like.” She pulled back from him altogether and it didn’t ache as much as he thought it would. “Don’t exactly want anyone catching Daredevil hobbling back to his apartment, now do we?”

            “No, probably not.” Matt smiled broadly then, feeling better than he had in weeks.

 


End file.
